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poetry and vignettes

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Alfred and the wilderness

Posted by jan oskar hansen on April 12, 2018 at 11:20 AM Comments comments (0)

Alfred and the wilderness

 

Alfred, who with the greatest of ease tells,

Me he is not my father and I went for a walk across chlorophyll filled field.

Alfred who is a musician and never ventures out in the landscape

saw some grazing sheep and wondered if they were dangerous,

no, I said they are sheep and born friendly

as God created them, to this Alfred called me a crypto-Christian.

A little Lamb came up to my father it was so sweet,

as only a lamb can be he lifted it up which the ewe disliked,

and it butted him in the rear.

Alfred was shocked, got up and demanded I bring him to safety

in the nearest town; never trust animals they are all out

to get us he said while limping to safer ground.

 

 

spring becons

Posted by jan oskar hansen on April 11, 2018 at 2:30 PM Comments comments (0)

As the time of spring beckons

 

We all have this moment of clear-sightedness

when we see we are of little importance other to the world

and clear-eyed grasp our smallness.

We can in our tiny ways push the world forward an inch

perhaps to a fairer society where children do not die under

the rubble of concrete.

We can do nothing to stop these people who will push

us into an Armageddon, and will they somehow think

they can avoid the calamity when there is no one to blame.

There was a time when one could travel unmolested

in the Arabic world, then the smell of petroleum and

the white man came and destroyed the peace for greed.

No, not us the lesser people, we are victims too of their

hunger to dominate and enslave us in mortgages and loans

that can never be paid; so we watch and wait and when

the day of disaster comes shall I help the ruffians to my lifeboat.

 

end of rural idyll

Posted by jan oskar hansen on April 10, 2018 at 7:00 AM Comments comments (0)

At the end of rural Idyll

 

It has been a long day

lugging water, gas and fire-wood

up to the cabin

I hope it is the last time having to do this.

We are moving into a roomy flat in Cascais

it has a panoramic view over the bay, the sea

yes, it was my first love even though I`m loath

to admit it, but I will miss the trees and

the greenery of the woods, but what the hell

my almond tree will look after itself.

There is a lunch café on the first floor they also

bring food up if I feel tired of being polite.

What I will see now is the shifting stir of the ocean

and much time will be spent watching the bygone.

I know I will cry when leaving I was content here

although the local doctor from Moldavia thinks I behave

drunken Yeltsin, she has a good heart, wishes I could say

the same about her receptionist, we had an argument

and now I have to go to a private doctor for my medicine.

I have an old seagull on the roof can`t leave it alone to catch

it will be painful it will bite me, but when it sees the ocean,

it will be grateful to me.

 

Poets and intellectuals

Posted by jan oskar hansen on April 9, 2018 at 5:05 AM Comments comments (0)

Poets and intellectuals

 

A big white screen I look at it and type a few words,

utter banalities about a washing machine, the brain has nowhere to go

but to think of the near things.

There was a time when I sat on top of a mountain feet dangling high

above ground when I thought if I tried could fly; everything was possible

now I’m dead inside. Death starts when the mind goes numb

and you forget your childhood, was I a Child? I don`t know wish I was

a giraffe and could see life from a lofty height.

The TV bores me, I was never the poet I wanted to be I don`t want

tomorrow to happen it is too difficult to write anything sensible.

The thing is to break new ground plough pristine earth and produce

something that doesn’t look like carrots.

But up from the earth sprout old clichés written over and over again

by respected intellectuals and famous poets, except for Oscar Wilde

they are just boring old bastards dressing up their ordinariness in

words we had to look up the dictionary to understand, but it is still trite.

But their reputation a great thinker follows them into perpetuity.

 

Alfred likes dogs

Posted by jan oskar hansen on April 8, 2018 at 2:25 PM Comments comments (0)

Alfred like dogs

 

Alfred, my father who steadfastly refuse to be one

had bought four sausages, and was frying them when I came in,

but papa I said you are a vegetarian, yes he said two are for you

and two are for the dog that hangs outside the restaurant

where he plays the piano, it needs reassurance and food.

Alfred chuckled to himself, and I was not sure if I should feel

offended, but let it slide seeing him wrapping the sausages

in tin foil, for the dog that doesn’t belong to him.

 

 

 

 

the pelt

Posted by jan oskar hansen on April 4, 2018 at 4:10 AM Comments comments (0)

The Pelt

Dressed in a fur coat of starving foxes

she made her great entrance at the supermarket.

The foxes tore themselves loose

and attacked the delicatessen that served

cooked chicken in black boxes a and cellophane,

but avoided the cheeses display.

They had been hungry so long and lost fear of mankind,

attacked the guard who tried to stop them.

Only when sated they slinked away so rapidly I was

not sure if I had seen what I saw, but the lady

who had lost her coat was cold, and she cried.

 

the pelt

Posted by jan oskar hansen on April 4, 2018 at 4:10 AM Comments comments (0)

The Pelt

Dressed in a fur coat of starving foxes

she made her great entrance at the supermarket.

The foxes tore themselves loose

and attacked the delicatessen that served

cooked chicken in black boxes a and cellophane,

but avoided the cheeses display.

They had been hungry so long and lost fear of mankind,

attacked the guard who tried to stop them.

Only when sated they slinked away so rapidly I was

not sure if I had seen what I saw, but the lady

who had lost her coat was cold, and she cried.

 

sailing

Posted by jan oskar hansen on April 3, 2018 at 1:10 PM Comments comments (0)

Sailing

 

I will be here

Waiting for you

In the bay of peace.

When becalmed

Your sails grey

Days of glory over

I will be there

In the tranquil bay

Waiting for you.

Our anchors

Will be our wedding ring

De-rigged

Side by side

At last, my love.

 

 

a Greek poem

Posted by jan oskar hansen on March 26, 2018 at 11:20 AM Comments comments (0)

A Greek poem

 

 

We were walking uphill the mule and I it was hot

and we stopped by a spring trickling down the mountain

there was an open barrel for animals to drink.

The beast drank and drank; when I looked it was big as an elephant

and since the track we walked on was narrow it lost its balance

fell to the bottom of the hill.

When I came down it was ok if a bit hazed and we began to walk

uphill again.

 

 

 

the teeth

Posted by jan oskar hansen on March 24, 2018 at 5:25 AM Comments comments (0)

The Teeth

I sit under a skylight the sun is benign

this February day and its Friday come to think of it.

It was not a good night; sleep was interrupted by

this sense of being a failure, although I had not set out

to win the world`s admiration, but I know of a lad

that had plans he ended up peeling potatoes, and

which can be an art in itself not peeling to deep.

It is my wife’s birthday, and we are going out for lunch,

Then we are going to the jeweller to change

The gift I gave her to something more to her liking,

I dislike when she does this, but it is her birthday and

as it is a said her only day to shine; of course, for me, she shines

Every day when she has taken the teeth out of the water

solution and put them into her mouth.

 

 


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